


Ti Amo, Adonis

by beckzorz (heckofabecca)



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: 1940s, F/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, POV Multiple, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 14:11:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17684969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heckofabecca/pseuds/beckzorz
Summary: Bucky wasn’t invisible in every Italian bar. When you caught sight of him, you couldn’t look away.





	Ti Amo, Adonis

**Author's Note:**

> Written with the help of the following prompt: “I love you” loud, so everyone can hear.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Italian jazz was a lot like the stuff back home. It had the same swinging beat, the same sultry singing. Even some of the melodies were the same, even if the foreign lyrics meant something a little different. But a love song was still a love song.

The humming in his veins wasn’t too bad tonight, now that he’d eaten and drunk. He couldn’t feel the alcohol. He hadn’t been able to feel it for weeks now, not since Steve’s rescue. Not since—

Well.

Not since.

Steve was in the corner with a sketchbook, probably drawing his Agent Carter. Bucky remembered the days when Steve used to draw him more than anybody else, but Steve’s world was bigger than it used to be.

And Bucky’s world was smaller. He’d come over not knowing enough; now he felt like he knew too damn much. Girls used to line up for the privilege to swoon at his feet; now their eyes slid straight past him to Steve.

What a gas.

But Steve was in the corner now, protected by the others in the squad. Bucky watched from his chair as a trio of girls came in. Two of them lit straight on Steve.

The other… didn’t.

 

* * *

 

You unwrapped the scarf from around your careful curls. American soldiers in your town? It was too exciting to miss, so you and Sofia and Giulia had tramped on down to the bar. Your English was passable—Sofia’s was better, Giulia’s nonexistent—and you were anxious to see if the men had anything worth trading. Americans sometimes did, you’d heard.

But when you clapped eyes on the one furthest from the door, you stopped in your tracks. Tired as he looked, American as he looked, he was beautiful. Blue eyes, perfectly coiffed dark hair, a profile that looked carved out of marble…

You swallowed.

Giulia, brave girl, had already started chatting to the men in her lilting voice. The way they gazed up at her gave a pretty good indication of which could understand her, but all of them had an awestruck look. Giulia wasn’t a classic beauty, per se, but she was stunning in her own way. Sofia dragged you ahead.

“You Americans like jazz, of course,” Giulia said. “Do you know how to dance?”

The beautiful one—an Adonis if ever there was one—translated for the others, and a fellow in a beret offered his hand to Giulia, who looked longingly at the well-built blond drawing in the corner. But she let the other man lead her to the open floor by the record player.

Your Adonis finally met your eyes.

“What about you ladies? Do you like to dance?” he asked in Italian.

“Of course we do,” Sofia said in English. She had her eye on the tall blond as well, but she wasn’t immune to this one either. You put a hand on the back of his chair before Sofia could scoop him up and smiled down at him as sweetly as you could.

“Care to dance, bella?” he asked in Italian, standing smoothly.

You nodded, breathless at his sudden closeness. It wasn’t just his face that was perfect; your mouth went dry at the thought of the body under that uniform. And when he put his arm around your back and took your hand in his, you melted.

A love song was playing, and you were in the arms of a beautiful man. All the horrors of the last years were distant memories right now.

You couldn’t keep from looking up at him whenever you could. His eyes fixed on yours with intense focus, and by the end of the song the tension between you was thick and charged. His hand shifted higher on your back, pulling at your dress, pressing you closer to him.

Your Adonis was your only partner that night.

 

* * *

 

You stayed up talking with him all night. Not _just_ talking, but between kisses and other things, you shared your life with him, and he shared his.

When morning came and he refastened his blue coat, you watched with a sigh. You had never exchanged names; you’d called him Adonis, he’d called you his bella. Despite the anonymity, it had all been strangely intimate. The thought of his leaving made your heart swell with grief.

But he smiled down at you, nearly chipper. He lifted your chin to press a last kiss to your lips.

“Ciao, bella,” he said.

“Goodbye,” you answered, voice low.

He left.

After a minute you leapt out of bed and threw on your dress, coat, and shoes. You ran downstairs, outside, back to the town square—and the men were piled in a truck, engine rumbling. Adonis caught sight of you and waved.

“Ti amo!” you cried, still running after him. “Ti amo, Adonis!”

Adonis shoved his way to the back of the truck, ignoring the other men’s laughs, and stretched out his hand. His eyes were glued to yours; awe graced his perfect features. You ran closer, closer, chest burning with effort.

The truck started to pull away. With a final burst of energy, you made it within reach. For a shining moment your fingers touched. Then the truck sped off, and Adonis was taken away, growing smaller by the minute until the truck turned a corner and vanished.

You stood in the road, cold and alone, and pressed your fingers to your lips.


End file.
